by John Norman
“Too bad she is not a slave,” said Bila Huruma. “She might then be made to crawl and cry out in passion.”
“She is worthy to be a slave,” said Kisu. “She is the daughter of the traitor, Aibu!”
Bila Huruma lifted his hand. “Take him away,” he said. Kisu was dragged, struggling, from the court.
Mwoga shortly thereafter, bowing and stepping backwards, took his leave.
Msaliti then appeared by my side, and thrust me gently, through the crowd, forward. “Be ready,” he said.
Bila Huruma and those about him, including Shaba, regarded me. Shaba gave no sign that he recognized me. If he revealed that I was not what I seemed, it might seem reasonable to inquire into the sources of his knowledge. It would then be a short step to making clear his involvement with the ring. Such a trinket, doubtless, would be of great interest to the Ubar, Bila Huruma. It was not in the best interest of Shaba, or myself, or Msaliti, for the power of. the ring to come to the attention of the sovereign of this vast equatorial ubarate.
When I was near Bila Huruma I was to draw the dagger, slay Shaba and then, by prearranged plan, be immediately apprehended by askari guardsmen, to be placed under arrest.
Msaliti was supposed to obtain the ring from the body of Shaba. I was later supposed to receive a hundred tarns of gold and my freedom. I smiled to myself.
“Are you armed?” asked Msaliti, both in the inland speech, some of which I had learned-from Ayari, and in Gorean.
“Why, yes,” I said pleasantly, revealing the sleeve sheath, and handing him the dagger.
For an instant, just an instant, I saw in the eyes of Msaliti a flash of incredible fury. Then he nodded, and accepted the dagger, which he handed to an askari.
I showed the sleeve sheath to Bila Huruma, who was interested in it. Such sheaths are common in the Tahari but, in the equatorial interior, where men are commonly bare-armed, I gathered they were an interesting novelty.
Bila Huruma said something to an aide. It had to do with seeing that a robe was made for him which contained such a device.
“Greetings, Great Ubar,” said I, “and noble gentlemen, all.” I smiled at Shaba. “I bring you greetings from the merchant council of Teletus, that council sovereign in that free island. Aware of the wealth and mighty projects of the ubarate we desire to arrange the apparatus for commercial interaction with your state. Should the great canal be completed we are well aware that this ubarate will become a crucial link between the equatorial east and west. We now wish, as doubtless will other merchant holdings, such as our sisters, Schendi and Bazi, to accord you our best wishes and to sue for your favor, that our shipping and merchants may be permitted to prove themselves of service in your future ventures.”
Msaliti did his best, not happily, to translate this for Bila Huruma.
I wished to make such declarations for various reasons. First I thought it possible that some of the blacks in the room, besides Shaba And Msaliti, perhaps close counselors of Bila Huruma, might know Gorean. It was important to me to seem to be truly an envoy from Teletus. Secondly, I thought it might be amusing to try my hand at diplomatic bombast. I seldom received such an opportunity, and I have always been impressed by that sort of thing. I gathered, from the looks of those about, that the sort of things I said were the usual sorts of things, mostly vacuous, which are said upon such occasions. This pleased me. Thirdly, I think I might have enjoyed discomfiting Msaliti, hoisting him, so to speak, by his own petard.
Msaliti then signaled to a man who brought forward the gifts for Bila Huruma, in the small coffer.
He acknowledged them, and then they were put to the side. I was informed, through Msaliti, the Ubar speaking, that the greetings of Teletus were accepted, that his ubarate expressed similar greetings to those of the island, that his ubarate appreciated our interest in its future and that his wazir of trade would speak to me within the next ten days. I then, as I had seen others do, smiled and bowed, and, walking backward, withdrew from his presence.
The next envoy was from Bazi. He presented to Bila Huruma four chests of gold, and ten black slave girls, nude, in golden chains.
This did not much please me. I thought that Msaliti might have done better on behalf of Teletus. The envoy from Bazi, I noted, would receive an audience with the wazir of trade within five days.
Shortly after the business with the envoy of Bazi the court of Bila Huruma was adjourned. I think that one of the slave girls had struck his fancy. I hoped that she was well trained. He was a Ubar. He would not be easy to please.
Msaliti and I were then alone in the great, conical-roofed Court.
I sheathed the sleeve dagger which, after the adjournment of the court, the askari had returned to me.
He was beside himself with rage. “Why did you not kill Shaba!” he demanded. “That was the plan.”
“It was not my plan,” I said. “It was your plan. I have a different plan.”
“I will have you immediately returned to the canal,” he said, in rage.
“That will be difficult to do,” I said. “You have already established, and I am grateful, that I am an ambassador or envoy from Teletus.”
He cried out with rage.
“Surely,” I said, “you did not think I would be fool enough to do what you wanted. As soon as Shaba was slain you would have had the askaris, at a word, in the heat of the thing, slay me. You would then have me out of the way, who knows about the ring, and free access to the ring itself.”
“You thought I would betray you?” he asked.
“Certainly,” I said. “You would have, wouldn’t you?”
“Yes,” he said.
“I thought so,” I said. “You see,” I said, “you do have the makings of an honest, truthful fellow in you.”
I slipped the sleeve dagger loose.
“It will do you no good to kill me,” he said.
“I am just testing the sheath,” I said. I replaced the blade.
“It appears we must work together,” he said.
I again slipped loose the blade. “Yes,” I said.
He watched the steel. “What is your plan?” he asked.
“We must act quickly,” I said. “We do not know how much time we have. Bila Huruma’s wazir of trade will doubtless soon detect that I know little of the merchants or affairs of Teletus. We must act quickly.”
“What do you wish to do?” he asked.
“It is simple,” I said. “Shaba has the ring. Show me his chambers and I will fetch it this very night.”
“Shaba knows you are in the palace,” he said. “He will surely be on his guard.”
“Then send another,” I said.
“Only we, and Shaba,” said he, “know of the ring.”
“Precisely,” I said.
“I will show you his quarters tonight,” said he.
“Good,” I said.
“How do I know you will treat me fairly?” he asked. “How do I know you will not simply vanish the ring?”
“You do not know,” I said.
“Oh, that is a splendid aspect of your plan,” said he, irritably.
“I find it attractive,” I admitted. “If you wish to essay the quest in the chambers of Shaba yourself feel free to do so,” I said.
“If I should fail,” said he, “it would mean the end of my position at the court.”
“Doubtless,” I granted him. “Also, if you should be so unfortunate as to run afoul of Shaba’s fang ring it would mean the end of more than your position. It contains kanda, as I understand it.”
“It appears there are few sensible alternatives to your plan,” he said.
“I am the one who is supposed to recover the ring, you know,” I said.
“I know,” he said. “I know.”
“Surely you trust me,” I said, as though hurt.
“I trust you as my own brother,” he said.
“I did not know you had a brother,” I said.
“He once betrayed me,” said Msaliti.
“I arranged that he appear guilty of a violation of state trust, and had him slain for treason against the ubarate.”
“It was a mistake to trust such a fellow,” I said.
“Precisely,” he said.
“Until tonight,” I said.
“Bila Huruma,” he said, “is the one who truly stands in the way of obtaining the ring. He is the patron of Shaba, his protector. If Bila Huruma were gone, it would be easy to arrest Shaba and secure the ring.”
“That may or may not be,” I said, “but obviously Shaba is the fellow with the ring. It is he from whom we must seek that elusive artifact.”
“Shaba may not be willing to surrender the ring,” said Msaliti.
“It is my hope to be able to persuade him to do so,” I said.
“Will you please replace that dagger in the sheath,” said Msaliti. “It is making me nervous.”
“Very well,” I said. I slipped the steel back in the sheath.
“What did you think of our Ubar?” asked Msaliti. “He is surely a big fellow,” I said, “but I scarcely noticed him.” Bila Huruma, indeed, had been an extremely large man, and long armed. He had sat upon a royal stool, of black, lacquered wood, mounted on the crossed, tied, horns of kailiauk. His arms and legs had been bare, and they had glistened from oil. He had worn armlets and bracelets, and anklets, of gold. He had worn at his loins the pelts of the yellow panther. He wore, too, the teeth of his beast as a necklace. Behind and about him had swirled a gigantic cloak of yellow and red feathers, from the crested lit and the fruit tindel, brightly plumaged birds of the rain forest. In making such a cloak only two feathers are taken from the breast of each bird. It takes sometimes a hundred years to fashion such a cloak. Naturally it is to be worn only by a Ubar. His head was surmounted by an elaborate headdress, formed largely from the long, white, curling feathers of the Ushindi fisher, a long-legged, wading bird. It was not unlike the common headdress of the askari. Indeed, save for the length of the feathers and the intricate leather and beading, in which the feathers were mounted, it might have been such a headdress. It made clear that he, the Ubar, Ella Huruma himself, was one of them, himself an askari. His face had been broad, and the eyes widely spaced. On his cheeks and across the bridge of his nose there had been a swirling stitching of tattoo marks, the record of his transition, long years ago, into manhood.
“Surely you must have seen him well,” said Msaliti, “for you were presented before him.”
“I noticed externals,” I said, “and I remember the things you told me of his signs of office, but my mind was more on Shaba, and yourself, than the Ubar. I saw him, but I did not truly see him.”
“Your mind was distracted,” said Msaliti.
“Yes,” I said.
“Perhaps it is lust as well that you did not look deeply into him,” said Msaliti.
“To truly see a Ubar,” I said, “to look into his heart can be a fearful thing.”
“Only one can sit upon the throne,” said Msaliti.
“That is a saying in the north,” I said.
“I know,” said Msaliti. “But it is a saying that is also known east of Schendi.”
“Even east of Schendi,” I smiled, “the throne is a lonely country.”
“He who sits upon the throne, it is said,” said Msaliti, “is the most alone of men.”
I nodded. Perhaps it was just as well not to have looked too deeply into the eyes of Bila Huruma. It is not always desirable to look deeply into the eyes of a Ubar.
“Until tonight,” said Msaliti, withdrawing.
“Until tonight,” I said.
19. A Basket Of Osts; A Chain Of Gold; The Eyes Of The Ubar
“Why is there no guard?” I asked.
“He has been disposed of,” said Msaliti. “Have no fear.” He gestured to the portal. “Enter,” he said.
“Surely Shaba will have others of his caste with him, geographers of the scribes,” I said.
“Enter,” said Msaliti.
“Lend me your lamp,” I said. He carried a small lamp, with a shallow bowl, which burned tharlarion oil.
“Askaris might see the flame through the walls of the room,” he said. “There are many about. Hurry.”
I slipped into the room. It was totally dark within. I stood with my back to the grass wall, to the left of the door, as I had entered.
The sleeping platform, I was told, was near the center of the room. Shaba, I suspected, would have the ring about his neck. Very slowly, inch by inch, every sense alert, I began to move toward the center of the room. Msaliti had brought me himself to the room. He had not been accompanied by askaris. I found this strange.
“As few as possible must know of our deed,” he had said.
“Yes,” I had said.
But surely he would not trust me to return the ring to him. I had expected that he would be accompanied by askaris, whom he would set upon me, to slay me, once I had either killed Shaba or obtained the ring. But I saw none. It had been my hope, of course, and a risk which Msaliti, for his part, would have had to accept, that I might, with the ring, elude his askaris, even if the room were surrounded. The odds, had I the ring, would, I think, have been in my favor. They were odds, of course, which Msaliti had been given no chance but to accept. I could always leave the room, of course, by kicking and tearing through the grass wall at any point of my choosing.
Looking behind me I saw, outside the room, the lamp of Msaliti lift and lower twice.
I smiled to myself. That, I took it, was his sign to his askaris that I was within the room, his sign to them that they were then to surround it.
But then I was troubled. I saw no askaris appearing from the darkness outside.
Suddenly I heard a rush of feet. Instantly I crouched, dagger drawn, blade up, my left hand, too, ready, in the on-guard position for knife combat. But the feet had not approached me. I was startled. I thought I heard climbing. Then, suddenly, from in front of me, in the darkness, I heard a hideous cry of pain. Then I heard a wild, piteous shriek which terminated in spasmodic coughing and gasping. I heard fingernails scratching at a wooden surface and the turning and thrashing of a body.
I turned to leave the room, but, at the door, I was met with the leveled stabbing spears of several askaris. I saw no sign of Msaliti. I lifted my hands, dropping the knife. Men entered with lamps.
I saw then that I was not in the room of Shaba.
In the center of the room, on a high platform, some nine feet high, supported by eight poles, sitting, cross-legged, naked, save for the panther teeth about his neck, was not Shaba, but the ubar, Bila Huruma.
Men seized my arms then, pinioning them behind me. I felt my wrists being tied.
The room was now well lit from the several lamps. Other lamps, too, at a sign from the ubar, were lit.
I looked to the round, shallow, circular pit in the center of the room. It was about a foot deep. The poles supporting the sleeping platform were set within it. In the pit, his hands still clutching, fingernails bloody, at one of the round poles supporting the platform, lay an askari. His body was twisted horribly, and contorted. The flesh had turned a blackish orange and, in places, had broken open, the skin’ peeling back like burned paper. A knife, fallen, lay near him in the pit About his body, small, nervous, sinuous, crawled tiny snakes, osts. Each of these, startlingly, had tied to it a thin string. There were eight such diminutive reptiles. The strings, fastened behind their heads, led up to a pole at the head of the sleeping platform, where they were tied. A woven basket hung, too, near the foot of the sleeping platform. The ost is usually an orange snake, but these were Ushindi osts, which are red with black stripes. Anatomically, and with respect to toxin, I am told they are almost identical to the common ost.
“What is going on, my Ubar?” cried Msaliti, entering. He was in disarray as though he might have been aroused by the screaming. He did not have the lamp with him. In his hurry, of course, he would not have had time to light a lamp. I admired him. He was a shrewd fellow.
Suddenly Msaliti stopped, startled. He seemed astonished, but only for an instant. “My Ubar!” he cried. “Are you all right?”
“Yes,” said Bila Huruma.
Upon entering Msaliti had called out to the Ubar, but when he actually saw him he had reacted briefly, stunned. I realized he had called out to make it clear to all that he had expected the Ubar to be alive when he entered, but, when he saw that the Ubar, truly, was alive, he had been for the moment startled. He had recovered himself almost instantaneously. But surely he would not have expected me to have killed the Ubar. I sought the ring. If I had not found it on Shaba’s person I surely would not have killed him, perhaps losing it forever.
Msaliti looked into the shallow pit below the high poles of the sleeping platform of Bila Huruma. He looked sick.
“What happened?” he asked. He looked closely at the contorted figure, its discolored hands still clutching at the pole of the sleeping platform. “It is Jambia,” he said. “Your guard.”
“He tried to kill me,” said Bila Huruma. “He was doubtless highly paid. He did not know of the osts. That man is doubtless his accomplice.”
I then understood the brilliance of Msaliti. But Msaliti had underestimated the genius of his Ubar.
I had been told that the guard had been disposed of. Actually he had been within, in the hire of Msaliti, awaiting his signal with the lamp. I recalled then that Msaliti, in the morning, had told me that Bila Huruma was he who stood in the way of obtaining the ring, and that if he were gone it would be easy to arrest Shaba and secure the ring. His plan then had been simple. Bila Huruma was to be slain by Jambia, who would then escape, presumably by cutting through the grass wall. It would be I who would be found in the Ubar’s chamber. Perhaps Jambia himself was to make the discovery. The rent in the grass wall would be taken, of course, the grass pressed inward, to have been my entrance into the Ubar’s chamber, rather than the exit of Jambia. If the plan had been successful Bila Huruma would have been dead and Shaba, without his protector, would be much at the mercy of Msaliti who, as high wazir, would immediately assume, at least temporarily, the reins of government. My false identity, that which Msaliti had constructed for me, as an envoy of Teletus would not then, in the circumstances, any longer protect me. Any diplomatic immunity, so to speak, which I might have possessed would, in the circumstances, have been stripped away from me. I might then be dealt with as Msallti pleased. His plan, if successful, then, would permit him not only to secure the ring but rid himself of me as well, one who shared with him the secret knowledge of the ring and one who might desire to be himself the agent by which the ring was to be transmitted to Belisarius in Cos, for subsequent return to the Kurii. I had been troublesome to Msaliti. I might prove troublesome to him in the future. He had thus found a useful place for me in his plans. Too, of course, if it were thought I were the assassin, Investigative scrutiny would then be directed away from the court rather than within it.
